Fortune
by Laree England
Summary: what if a fortune teller walks up to Athos and D'Artagnan right after they meet and hints at their future relationship? NOT SLASH! father/son


**A/N: The story starts out with direct quotes from when D'Artagnan first runs into Athos. My writing starts to come in after Athos hints at a duel. Thanks for your patience!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the 3 Musketeers.**

"All for one," said Athos, bringing the tankard to his lips, right as a boy ran into him, dumping the wine all down his front. With his honed reflexes he was able to grab a handful of the boy's clothes.

"I'm after a man who insulted my horse and tried to kill me! So let me go!" the young man cried, straining against Athos' iron grip. He was rather young indeed, no older than twenty.

"Not good enough," said Athos. "You spilled my drink and ruined my shirt."

"I'm in a hurry," said the boy in a tone that suggested that he was talking down to Athos. He wriggled in his cloak and Athos thought that he was still attempting to escape, but the boy brought out silver from his purse.

"Ten sue?" Athos scoffed, bringing the boy closer. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"The town drunk from the smell of you!" exclaimed the boy.

"Now, that, my boy, is fighting talk." said Athos.

The boy opened his mouth to retort when they heard a woman clear her throat behind them. Athos didn't release the boy, but they bother turned their heads to lay eyes on the woman. She had a one-sided smile and wild eyes, odd pieces of jewelry and tools draped around her neck and waist.

"What do you want?" asked Athos.

"You two men," said the woman in an odd voice. "Have a strange aura about you."

The two men blinked at her.

Her one-sided grin pulled up higher. "I am Obsuria, reader of the future!" she said, making wild hand gestures.

Athos rolled his eyes. This day just kept getting better.

"You don't believe me?"

"Something about you makes it rather difficult to believe, yes."

"Ah… What if I told you that I could tell everything about you, just from a single glance?"

Athos just looked at her with contempt.

Obsuria closed her eyes dramatically. "You are Athos… and I see companionship… yes, two men of our same rank… Aramis and Porthos, musketeers of the king."

"Wait. You're a musketeer?" said the boy in disbelief.

Athos ignored him, still staring at Obsuria. "Anyone could have told you that."

Obsuria smirked. "Could anyone have told me that your heart is troubled? That someone broke you heart and stole your pride? And more than that, after a year, you still love them?"

Athos released the boy upon hearing this, but the boy, to Athos' surprise, didn't run away.

Seeing that she was getting somewhere, she turned to the boy. "Now, you… Ah, a young Gascon." she said, clapping her hands together. "Nineteen years of age, and your name… D'Artagnan, after your father?"

Athos could tell by the boy's face that she had hit her mark. "How long ago did you come to Paris?"

"Arrived this morning." said the Gascon, staring at Obsuria as if in a daze.

"You have been busy," said Athos. "Leave, boy," he continued, casting an arm out. "Let me deal with this witch. I don't need your foolishness to get in the way."

Obsuria clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Monsieur Athos! Do not speak to the young D'Artagnan so harshly!"

"And why not?" said Athos, knowing that with normal people the question would be rhetorical, but with Obsuria…

"Because," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "There will come a day when you shall care for this young boy even more than the woman who betrayed you." she looked over to D'Artagnan. "And he will care equally as much for you."

Athos looked over at D'Artagnan, whose face was beginning to flush. How could he possibly ever come to love such a foolish young man and he himself was such an impossible man to love. It was ridiculous t even think of such a thing coming to pass. D'Artagnan glanced up at Athos, and upon making eye contact with each other, they immediately looked away, plunging their hands deep into their pockets. Obsuria giggled in delight.

"Impossible," D'Artagnan muttered.

"That settles it," said Athos. "This woman is a farce, and this young man and I shall duel for his brashness."

"Where shall it be, then?" asked D'Artagnan, recovering slightly from being so embarrassed.

"Cooper's yard. Saint-Germaine. Twelve o'clock." said Athos.

"I'll be there," said D'Artagnan, pointing at him. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a man to catch!" with that, the young man bolted off.

Athos was left alone with Obsuria. "Be gone, woman! I tire of your games."

Obsuria obediently twirled away, her half-smile the widest it had ever been.

Those men had no idea what they were in for.


End file.
